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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23747371">We'll Meet Again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofElros/pseuds/DaughterofElros'>DaughterofElros</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Gay Character, Happy Ending, History is Gay, M/M, Period-Typical Slang, Sex in a Truck, World War II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:48:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,596</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23747371</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofElros/pseuds/DaughterofElros</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Guerin is in the Navy. Alex Manes is a USAAF airman. They meet one night on leave at the bar of the Royal Hotel, and it feels like it's meant to be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael Guerin/Alex Manes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Time After Time: A Roswell New Mexico Alternate Era AU Event</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We'll Meet Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the alteraroswell2020 event Day 4: 1900s</p>
<p>The Fic Title comes from a famous song of that era by the same name.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Michael Guerin wonders if he’s doing the right thing. It’s not the smart thing, not by a longshot. The smart thing would be picking up any of these beautiful nurses, or society girls, or independent, newly-minted factory workers, spinning them around the dance floor, hope that they were up for a bit of necking and maybe even a little more than that in the back of the truck. He’s got wheels, and a weekend pass off the naval base. He supposed to meet up with his brother Max tomorrow, since the sucker could only get a one-day pass from his Army higher-ups, so tonight, he’s got no set plans, and space to breathe.</p>
<p>He wants to get laid.</p>
<p>It’s been too long, and the idea of kissing a girl, the waxy transfer of her lipstick smearing across his lips, her soft curves under his hand, sinking into her tight heat holds undeniable appeal. But it’s not the thing he’s really been craving. He won’t be in Milwaukee forever— he’s aced the tests they’ve given him, just like he’s aced every test he’s ever taken, and he’s been told that he’s shipping out for a top-secret assignment in two weeks. In fucking Kansas. Girls, he’s pretty sure they’ve got there. A city full of men, civilians and all walks of military life alike, some of who must be keen on the same sorts of things he’s craving…less guaranteed.</p>
<p>Which is why he’s walking up to the Royal Bar at the Royal Hotel, a place that he’s heard has a corner of the bar that’s frequented by horticultural lads and rough trade to boot. When he orders a particular cocktail, pitching his voice to be heard over the music, the dark-haired beauty behind the bar gives him a secretive smile.</p>
<p>“That one takes a minute to mix up, Love. The Airman there at the other end of the bar is waiting on one too though. I can bring them over to you both in just a minute.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Doll.” He says it with a wink, catches the hint of grudging interest in her eye. There is indeed an airman down at the far end of the bar, dressed in pinks and greens and filling them out admirably. He’s got dark hair, a handsome face, and killer cheekbones. This looks promising.</p>
<p>There’s space at the end of the bar between the Airman’s stool and the wall, so he sidles in there, leans his elbow on the bar.</p>
<p>“Hey there,” he greets him. The airman give him a once-over and though he’s careful about it, Michael can read the interest in his dark eyes. Heat pools in his own belly, a hunger that has nothing to do with food.</p>
<p>“Haven’t seen you around before,” the dark-haired man replies.</p>
<p>“Navy’s got me passing through for training. Sending me to Kansas next.” He grins, lays on the charm a little.</p>
<p>“Is there a lot of water in Kansas?” the airman asks sardonically. Dry humor. Michael can work with that. Dry humor and dry wine both appeal to him.</p>
<p>“I’m told there might be a  mud puddle or two after it rains,” Michael grins easily. “They’re sending me there for some fancy thing having to do with math, I guess. Apparently Kansas’s the reward you get for acing the tests they make you sit for at Great Lakes.” Since he’s not supposed to talk about the RADAR work he’s going to be doing, that’s about all he’s allowed to say, so he tries to steer the conversation away. “Could be worse. My Brother’s been training at Camp McCoy. That’s why I’m here, actually. He’s coming down tomorrow so we can meet up before we get scattered farther afield again. Word just came down that in about a month, his unit is going to be sent to aid in the Pacific on a troop transport. They’re going to be spending most of their time on the water.”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t sound so bad. Although I’m a radio operator and cryptologist, so I get to spend most of my time behind a desk no matter where I’m stationed,” The airman says.</p>
<p>“Sure. Except the reason Max went Army instead of Navy like me is that he gets seasick.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” the airman grins, “That is unfortunate.”</p>
<p>“Tell me about it. I plan to make fun of him for it about a hundred times once he gets in tomorrow. Tonight though, I’m on my own.”</p>
<p>“That’s also unfortunate,” the airman remarks. “And to add to the list of unfortunate circumstances, I know your brother is named Max, but I haven’t learned yours yet.”</p>
<p>That’s a good line. Good sign too.</p>
<p>“Michael. Guerin.” He supplies. They’re deciding to trust each other, then.</p>
<p>“Alex Manes.”</p>
<p>“Well, Alex Manes, Now that we’ve been introduced, do you fancy a handshake?”</p>
<p>“Seems only fair,” Manes says softly, holding his hand out.</p>
<p>When their palms slide together, heat coils through Michael’s entire body, finger tips to toes. Every nerve jumps to hyperawareness, and the press of Alex’s fingertips on the back of his hand is electric. They talk for several more minutes, get their drinks and thank the girl behind the bar. Alex calls her Marie or Maria or something, and leaves a generous tip, so Michael follows suit. He keeps getting distracted by the shape of the other man’s mouth, the depths of his eyes, the way his lips move so beautifully. He feel captivated, enraptured, and hopes he’s not entirely alone in that feeling.</p>
<p>“You know,” he says abruptly. “I’m realizing I’m a little hungry. Anything you’d recommend?”</p>
<p>“Well,” Alex says slowly. “Depends what you’re looking for. There’s a lot of seafood options around.” He casts his gaze over to a knot of women crowding up to the bar, men in uniform angling for the privilege of buying them drinks. “Though I have to say, I’m not the best resource there. Never been much for seafood myself.”</p>
<p>Michael almost blushes at how direct the other man is being. At least if you know enough to catch his meaning.</p>
<p>“Oh, I like it just fine,” Michael tells him appreciatively. “Just…not what I’m in the mood for tonight.”</p>
<p>Alex’s gaze sharpens at the coded confirmation.</p>
<p>“Well in that case…I have a few options I can show you. If you want to get out of here.”</p>
<p>“Lead the way,” Michael tells him. Alex slides from his stool immediately, which affords Michael an enviable opportunity to glance at the other man’s ass in uniform as they went their way through the crowd.</p>
<p>Outside, there’s a bit of a chill to the air, and it’s fully dark. Michael’s on board with that though, because it makes it so much easier to throw caution to the wind when Alex ducks into a closed-off alleyway behind the hotel, stepping back behind  a stack of crates that block the view of them from the street. Alex turns to face him, his back bumping up against the brick wall, and Michael doesn’t hesitate, just leans in to kiss him.</p>
<p>It’s sweet, for all of their fear and desperation. Alex’s hand is on his cheek, his fingers curling into Michael’s hair. His lips are soft under Michael’s and then he opens his mouth to Michael’s tongue, and Michael is lost. </p>
<p>It’s just kissing, at first. He kisses Alex longer than he thinks he might ever have kissed someone before without interruption. Long minutes drag by in the slow pull of their mouths, every honey-sweet kiss. The share the very air they breathe. His fingertips learn the shape of Alex’s jaw, the outline of his ear, the way that just stroking his thumb over that sensitive flesh can make Alex shiver into his touch, gasp into his mouth. He’s responsive, in a way Michael has never had before, and long before Alex pulls their bodies closer together, slotting their hips so that the proof of their arousal aligns against each other, Michael find himself wondering if you can fall in love not just in a single night, but in a single kiss.</p>
<p>“I want you,” Michael whispers against the other man’s lips, fingertips curling into the leather of his uniform belt. “Please tell me that you have a room here in town for the weekend.”</p>
<p>Alex shakes his head regretfully. </p>
<p>“Not one that we can go to. The landlady has eyes and ears like a hawk, and she doesn’t allow visitors of any type, ever.” His kisses Michael again, like he can’t bear not to kiss him for even ten seconds. Michael’s pleased the feeling is mutual. “We’d be caught in less than two minutes.” More kisses, and Alex’s head titled back to allow Michael to nibble delicately at his jaw, he find his words again. “But there’s a park. Down by the lake. The police only patrol there a few times a night. We’d have almost an hour.”</p>
<p>“Not long enough,” Michael swears. He doesn’t explain that he’s pretty sure and entire week with this man wouldn’t be enough. He’s never wanted someone like this— so immediate, so certain in his wanting. It feels Shakespearian, like they’re star-crossed lovers. Like he’s known Alex Manes forever, in his skin and in his bones. He’s on fire for this man, his skin burning embers, his bones made of coal. He wants to spend the rest of his life kissing this man. That’s ridiculous, because they’ve known each other less than an hour. But he’s never felt as right as he does in Alex’s arms, pressing him up against a brick wall, and he’s pretty sure that it can only get better from here. He needs more time. They need more time. He wants more than an hour.</p>
<p>“I have a truck,” he volunteers.</p>
<p>“Perfect,” Alex says. It takes them fifteen more minutes to untangle themselves from each other long enough  to walk the three blocks to Michael’s truck. It’s on the street, so they can’t stay there, but Alex directs him to a strip of land behind an old factory that doesn’t keep a night watchman, and backs up against a hill with a little creek running along the base of it.</p>
<p>Michael barely has the engine off before Alex is kissing him again. They give the bench seat a workout, to be sure. He hauls Alex on top of him at first, straddling him, gets him off that way with his hand down the front of Alex’s uniform pants, releasing the entire button fly with a single artful tug.</p>
<p>As a follow-up,  Alex goes to his knees right there in the truck cab, Michael’s hips spread as wide  as they can go, Alex’s knees tucked under the seat itself so he can get his mouth on Michael. </p>
<p>“Jesus,” he says. “The Navy really doesn’t want you boys unwrapped at all. How many buttons is this?”</p>
<p>“Thirteen.” Michael grinds out.</p>
<p>“One for each colony?” Alex guesses. “They do like their symbolism, don’t they?” he smooths his hand over the wool, grins wickedly as Michael arches up into his touch. He thumbs at one of the silver buttons next. “I tell you what. Let’s celebrate your patriotism here a little.”</p>
<p>“I’m definitely already saluting,” Michael breathes.</p>
<p>“Oh, I can tell.” Alex’s lips trace the outline of his erection through the wool. “Here’s what I’m thinking though. You name the first thirteen states, not particular as to order, and I’ll undo a button for every one you get right. How’s that sound?”</p>
<p>“New York.” He says promptly. Alex skims his thumb along his length, and wordlessly pops a button.</p>
<p>“Keep going.”</p>
<p>“Massachusetts. Virginia. R—rr Rhode Island.”</p>
<p>Alex doesn’t take him in his mouth until he gets them all correct. Michael’s never figured that the rote memorization he’d had to do in the third grade would ever prove useful for anything, but damned if he isn’t sending prayers of thanks to Miss Stephens now— at least until Alex licks at him daintily before he takes him into his mouth, and he loses all track of his rational thought. </p>
<p>Afterward, Michael kisses the taste of his own release out of Alex’s mouth. He doesn’t hurry either. It’s the most erotic kiss he’s ever had because they refuse to rush it, just kiss and kiss until their lips are red, scratched with stubble. At some point in the night,  Alex lays him down on the bench seat, pillowing Michael’s head on their discarded pants and aligning their renewed erections, grinding his hips in slow circles until they each come again, gasping into each other’s mouths.</p>
<p>They fall asleep like that together, wake in the morning with limbs that have fallen into pins-and-needles sensations, enveloped in the dubious warmth of body heat trapped by the drape of their shirts and jackets pulled over them in the night, a patchwork quilt of Navy and Olive Drab wool.</p>
<p>They stretch, put themselves to rights in the early-morning light, climb out of the truck to get their blood flowing again and check their hair in the truck’s mirrors. Looking to make sure no one is around, Alex leans Michael back against the vehicle and kisses him until he’s fully awake.</p>
<p>“You smell like the Lake,” he says blissfully, nosing at the collar of Michael’s shirt.</p>
<p>“Hey now,” Michael exclaims, but there’s no heat to it, and he doesn’t release Alex from his embrace.</p>
<p>“ ‘S a good thing,” Alex promises him. “You smell like water. Like rain, and the lake, and that creek over there. You’ll bring the scent of water to Kansas.”</p>
<p>“Pretty sure I smell like you,” Michael counters. Alex’s eyes take on a wicked gleam.</p>
<p>“That too. I like it. About the only thing I’d like to smell more right now is a cup of coffee.”</p>
<p>“Let’s get one,” Michael says easily. “I’ll bet you know a place. Diner or something that’s open by now.”</p>
<p>“I do.” Alex grins. “Cheap, good eats, friendly folks that run it. Only downside is that if we go, I have to stop kissing you. And I’m finding that I really don’t want to stop doing that.”</p>
<p>“Mmm. About that…” Michael drops another kiss on Alex’s mouth, rubs his hand along Alex’s hip. “You know I’m meeting up with my brother today. But if you want…you can spend the day with us, show us all the sights we should make sure we see, since you’re stationed at the airfield. And then, once he has to leave again…we can spend another night together?”</p>
<p>He doesn’t know why he’s offering it. These things between soldiers, they only ever last a night at most. So many of these dalliances don’t even las the hour. But Alex doesn’t feel like a dalliance. He feels like everything Michael has ever wanted, and if he can hold onto for even one full day, he’ll take the chance in asking. He braces for the inevitable rejection of the idea, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Alex pulls him down for another kiss, their lips reverent and clinging against each other.</p>
<p>“Yes. A hundred times yes,” Alex tells him.</p>
<p>“Mmmmm,” Michael murmurs against smiling lips, his arm tightening around Alex’s waist. “A thousand yeses, a thousand kisses.”</p>
<p>“A Thousand,” Alex agrees.</p>
<p>In that moment, Michael resolves that it doesn’t matter what it takes, how long the war lasts or where it takes them. So long as they both survive it, he’s going to make sure that he and Alex Manes meet again.</p>
<p>“Nine hundred and Ninety Nine,” He corrects himself. “I’m holding a kiss back for when we meet again.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So a lot of my VERY specific knowledge about gay culture around WWII and Milwaukee comes from a yet-unpublished Steve/Bucky fic that makes a great deal out of the fact that Bucky's training was at Camp McCoy in Wisconsin. Some details come for my grandparents and their friends that I've interviewed for various papers as a history major in undergrad, and a truly ridiculous amount of research that I've done on the topic.</p>
<p>The brothers who enlisted to suit their land/sea desires (and seasickness tolerance) and got switched around so the Navy man landed in Kansas doing top-secret RADAR development and the Army man ended up on a transport ship is based 100% off my own grandfather and great uncle, who still ribbed each other about that fact a solid 6 decades later.</p>
<p>Lots more where that comes from, so what I'm saying is, come chat with me on tumblr if you want to know about any of the period-details of this fic, or get some visual aids as to what all those buttons on those uniform trousers look like: https://daughterofelros.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div></div>
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